Expect the Unexpected
by SakuraTendo
Summary: MoGlitch. Abandoned by his family, a homeless beetle knows only sadness-until Mo and Angel crash into his life. With a new name, Glitch, the young man loves his new life-and falls madly in love with Mo. The more he learns about Mo, the more he realizes Mo is his true love.
1. Meteor

Dance Central 2 fandom.  
This focuses on the origins of the MoGlitch couple. If you're against said pairing, PLEASE take your leave. I don't tolerate flamers of any kind. They bore me and ruin what we're here to celebrate: art.

*This contains boy's love, but it features NO HARDCORE ROMANCE.

*The last names I give the characters, Porter and Dominguez, are NOT official. They are NOT canon names.*

*The scene that focuses on the origin of Glitch's name was inspired by Disney's 'The Little Mermaid', when Prince Eric tried to figure out Ariel's name. Glitch suggesting the name 'Steve' at one point was inspired by a Dance Central 2 joke I don't understand.

* * *

'Always expect the unexpected'.

Mo learned that from his parents. When a world-famous saxophonist fell in love with a rough yet surprisingly shy fireman, one of many unexpected tales joined hands with reality. When fireman and jazz musician gave birth to a wide-eyed, music lovin' breakdancer, another unexpected but cherished adventure began.

Mo learned to expect the unexpected from Resident Evil. It was unwise to turn a corner without expecting a head-on collision with Hell; that slapped him in the face, on many occasions. Angel mocked him for forgetting to reload his shotgun ammunition, leaving his friend in the dust while monsters moved in for the kill. Silent Hill and Parasite Eve were good teachers, too. So, you'd think, after running into his ten-thousandth monster, Mo would've been more prepared for the unexpected.

But then he ran into a meteor.

Actually, the meteor crash-landed into his life. It was the strangest meteor Mo had ever encountered, and NASA would have definitely felt the same. The creature was a meteor, all right, dressed as a skin bag. Short black hair, passionate eyes, and an unparalleled drive for success-definitely a meteor, in human form.

The brown-eyed breakdancer discovered the meteor in an alley, rocking the floor for a pack of sleazy bandits. The filthy, low-rate crew treated the kid like dirt, but he stuck to his team mates like glue. Their names were the only ones he knew, after all. Even though they called him things like 'asswipe', 'scumwipe' and 'beetle', the kid held their names close. They were the only ones that kept him safe. The only ones that kept him going, every morning, noon and night.

Mo let things slide for a while. He watched the meteor from afar, passing by the alley with Angel. The Dominguez prodded at his friend whenever they passed by the alley crew, but the Porter shrugged him off. He and the brunette were just on their way to work, after all. Off to rack up more points at Starbucks, with Angel flexing his muscles and Mo flashing that sweet, beautiful smile of his. Yeah, the kid was being yanked around. Tossed around, laughed at and cursed at. But he was with his crew. His homeboys. So what if they were possible sex addicts, drug addicts or alcoholics? So what if they used the kid as a pinata, whenever he tripped up on one move? So what? Mo couldn't snatch him from his crew. 'Crew' was another word for 'family', and family was important. Crews couldn't be torn apart. To be a part of a crew was to have a special bond with someone. Someone that trusted you. Someone-

-that apparently didn't give a shit about a certain kid.

"Eres increible! You're going to take th' beetle home?"

"Sho th' fuck am. 'N don't call 'im that. I ain't leavin' 'im wit' that shitty-ass crew e's got. 'E deserves better than that."

"Your kindness never fails to amaze me, mi amor. I am forever charmed by not only your wit and style, but your radiance as well."

Angel fell in love with the Porter years ago. They synchronized during the first Dance Central, but not in the romantic sense. Despite the Latino's unwavering thirst for all things sex, he never went any further than perfectly harmless squeezes to a perfectly pert, tasty ass. While he pictured Mo in skimpy, black outfits on a regular basis, the brunette adored him far too much to forfeit their friendship. So he had absolutely no problem with Mo wanting to take 'Beetle' home. He vowed to be right there for both of them, forever and always.

All the while salivating over Mo in-

Ah. There would be plenty of time for imagining the breakdancer chained to a bed, wearing very little. Mo had to figure out the kid-their new roommate, and Angel vowed to help. 'Beetle' didn't come with an instruction manual, so figuring out Korean was definitely a lot harder than beating Jack Krauser, half-way through Resident Evil 4. The Porter's second roommate spoke some English, but that was the key word. Some. Steering around the kid's reluctance for a new home was trickier than Hell, too, but-

When 'Beetle' revealed just how frightened he had been of his crew, when the clothes came off and wounds were revealed, shit hit the fan.

Leon Scott Kennedy had nothing on Mo Porter.

Angel made a few remarks on 'packing heat', and paying a visit to the kid's 'old amigos'. The Latino became uncharacteristically silent, once the kid told a story of what he had been forced to eat on one occasion, supposedly forcing his crew to sulk off in defeat. Hearing it in choppy English didn't make it any better. So the brunette didn't say a word for hours.

Neither did Mo. And 'Beetle' thought both of them were angry. He couldn't peg why, but he feared they would throw him away. Just like his family. Just like his sorry excuse for a crew. Nobody wanted him. Nobody would ever want some broken-down, scraggly, disgusting little runt. Nobody-

-had ever whipped up a feast for him.

After his incredibly wonderful, inspirational story, Mo finished another round of patchwork and stormed out of the room. Worried, furious and heartbroken, 'Beetle' burrowed into his bed sheets and cried himself to sleep. But then smells came from the kitchen. Warm, lush, fragrant smells. What were they?

According to Angel, they were Abuelita's specials. And Mo was throwing in Momma Porter's mac 'n cheese.

The kid stared. What else could he do? His two hosts, the first ones to ever give him a home, were whipping up a feast for him! Talking was already difficult enough, but even if he had a grip on the English language, he wouldn't have known what to say because it was just too beautiful, too wonderful, too amazing-!

If the food had been absolutely horrible, he wouldn't have cared. Angel and Mo saw fit to cook him things. They had already opened their apartment to him. They bought him clothes, talked to him, smiled at him. Sincerely respected him, despite the language barrier. And there they were, stirring up a storm in their kitchen. For him.

For him.

When Mo patched up the kid's wounds, the air was tense. Tense but sweet. Filled with a lush, golden light that spoke of warm Summer mornings. 'Beetle' always looked at Mo in worship, wondering why such a big name dancer had even opened his home, his world, to a street rat. Wondering why such gentle, brown eyes cared for him. And Mo wondered how a mother and father could abandon such a precious, bright-eyed, fragile creature.

Who could ever want to abandon a meteor?

When Mo made the kid a plate of Ma's mac 'n cheese, the former scumwipe burst into tears. And Angel felt two things at once: a pang of deep, searing envy and an equally passionate, fiery burst of happiness. "Mama knew her shit was good," a beaming Mo said, clapping over the kid's tearful response to the dish.

"But she never knew it was this good! Wish ya coulda met 'er!"

"Ka...kamsa hamnida. Kamsa hamnida." Thank you.

"Cheon-man-eh."

Mo gave his lifelong friend a curious look, hand on one hip. Grinning from ear to ear, Angel shrugged. "What?" he asked, in true Angel fashion: flashy and dramatic. "I am learning our guest's native language. It is my duty not only as his friend, but as a connoisseur of the world's great beauty."

The kid either glared or frowned whenever Angel gushed over Mo, but adored the Latino with a fiery passion. He was reminded of how much he loved Angel, when he found out the brunette was learning how to speak a third language. The Dominguez gave him one of his charismatic, beautiful winks, but once Mo patted him on the head, time crashed to a halt. The flow of time, rhythm and melody came together as one, enveloping both breakdancers in a world all their own. In a world Angel couldn't reach-much to the kid's happiness.

For what seemed like forever, they gazed at each other-mac 'n cheese momentarily forgotten. A set of wide, fiery, embarrassed eyes united with a pair of warm, tender eyes, colliding in a groove of delicate but passionate wildfire. "Hate it when ya cry," the Porter said softly, cupping the kid's face and wiping away tears. And from that point on-

Angel knew the kid was gone. He had flown all the way to Mars.

"Ey. I'm givin' ya somethin' that'll make those tears stop. I'm gonna give ya a name."

'You are?' the Beetle's eyes asked, so wide and filled with so much emotion: hope, adoration, fear and longing. If his parents ever gave him a name, he couldn't pull it out of memory. And the names his crew called him...well, they weren't really good names. In response, the Porter nodded with shining, strong eyes. "Sure th' Hell am, yo," the older breakdancer said, flashing Angel a wink.

"Tell me. Ya like th' name Eagle?"

Halfway between a radiant smile and a pout, the kid thought for a moment-then shook his head vehemently. Angel muttered something in the nearby background, and had a dinner roll chucked at him. Then Mo tried again.

"Whadda 'booooout...Loki?"

A brunette's thick, warm accent filled the air. "Are you serious, my beloved blossom? Eagle was fine, but now you're just pulling at strings!"

"Hey! 'e liked th' damn comic books, lemme alone!"

"So what? You want to name him after one o' the Ninja Turtles? How about his favorite, Michaelangelo?"

"I like Raphael, too."

"I'm happy that yer laughin'," a thoroughly happy, relieved Mo said, patting a head of black hair. Not only that, but the former Beetle rarely spoke in complete sentences-English or Korean.

"But this ain't no laughin' matter. Y' ain't got a name, 'n ya need one!"

The young breakdancer's eyes lit up like the lights on a Christmas tree. "Steve!"

"What th' fuck-where in th' Hell did THAT come from? Angie, you been feedin' 'im some o' yer shit?"

Before the Dominguez could make his case against the name 'Steve', and his choice in educational, sweat-laden documentaries, the youngest member of the apartment raised a hand. "Axel," he threw in, cheeks adopting a soft shade of red. And to that, Mo nodded.

"I know where ya got that from. Ya got that from yer Kingdom Hearts shit. But I ain't namin' ya after no lame-ass punk from Organization XIII."

Mo knew about the game Angel bought for him. As if the Porter wasn't cool enough.

"Shuddup 'n lemme take care o' this. How d' ya like Glitch?"

An admiring Angel leaned over the dinner table, brown eyes shining with vibrant interest. "Mucho mejor, Princesa. Where did that come from?"

"Simple. From 'im bein' so damn amazin'."

Yep, the kid was gone. Far beyond the moon, far beyond Mars, and far beyond Pluto.

"Ya like it? Ya better, 'cuz I ain't callin' ya Steve or Axel."

"I...I'm...I'm d-d-down...with that," the ex-Beetle replied, nodding with a tear-stained smile. And embracing the taste of his response, his own voice, he repeated his answer.

"I'm...I'm down with that. I'm down with that!"

Not knowing what was in store behind door number two, Glitch dug into the rest of his mac 'n cheese with exuberant gusto. Tears streamed down his cheeks as he ate the rest of his dinner. His first feast, with two people he loved very much: Angel and-

Well, Mo. But he loved Mo in a way that was a billion times different from the way he loved Angel.

The beetle thought he was prepared for everything. Thought he could deal with anything.

After all, he had been dumped in a faraway country by his parents-who obviously had no use for him. And then the only 'friends' he had were slave masters. Pigs that cracked a whip over his back, whenever he fouled up on one tiny move. So he thought there wasn't much to deal with, other than rejection, cold nights, an empty stomach and degradation. But then-

-he ended up in a warm, cozy apartment. Ended up with a friend, and ended up-

-falling madly, hopelessly, helplessly in love with someone eight years his senior.

Glitch knew how to expect and accept the unexpected. And maybe, just maybe-

The 'unexpected' would work in his favor again, and all the world would stop long enough...for the beautiful, radiant, warm Mo to fall madly in love with him.

Ahhh, problems, problems, problems. "Better not be sneakin' into 'is room again," the former scumwipe muttered one night, bundling himself into the bed Mo bought for him. Referring to, of course, Angel-who snuck into a sleeping Mo's bedroom on occasion. Scowling over Angel, but only for a moment, the breakdancer soon fell asleep-

-and dreamt of his first great love.


	2. Turning the Corner

Dance Central 2 fandom. I do not own this fandom. Hence, the term 'fanfiction'.

This focuses on the origins of the MoGlitch couple. If you're against said pairing, PLEASE take your leave. I don't tolerate flamers of any kind. They bore me and ruin what we're here to celebrate: art.

*This contains boy's love, but it features NO HARDCORE ROMANCE.

*The last names I give the characters, Porter, Dominguez, Patterson and Clarke, are NOT official. They are NOT canon names. To tell you the truth, I hate my Mo's last name and wish I could use 'Alomar', as I have seen in other DC fanfiction, but I do not know how the author would feel about that.*

*Salida del sol: sunrise

Cielo: Heaven

Hermano: Brother

Geseki: Son of a bitch

Shibbal nom: Fuck him

Recap:

'Always expect the unexpected'.

Mo learned that from his parents. When a world-famous saxophonist fell in love with a rough yet surprisingly shy fireman, one of many unexpected tales joined hands with reality. When fireman and jazz musician gave birth to a wide-eyed, music lovin' breakdancer, another unexpected but cherished adventure began.

Mo learned to expect the unexpected from Resident Evil. It was unwise to turn a corner without expecting a head-on collision with Hell; that slapped him in the face, on many occasions. Angel mocked him for forgetting to reload his shotgun ammunition, leaving his friend in the dust while monsters moved in for the kill. Silent Hill and Parasite Eve were good teachers, too. So, you'd think, after running into his ten-thousandth monster, Mo would've been more prepared for the unexpected.

But then he ran into a meteor.

* * *

Chapter Two

'Always expect the unexpected'.

A popular saying, and for many people, it was a rule to live by. But a fifteen year old boy didn't know how to expect the unexpected. An empty stomach never taught him how to expect a warm plate to fall from Heaven. Ragged, stained clothes never taught him about the greater things in life; the crystal clear sky, rainbows, the whole lot. Warmed by only a bonfire, and a blanket he pulled from a garbage can, he only knew the deepest pangs of loneliness. The searing, white-hot sorrow that came from empty, soul-less nights.

Yeah, he 'chilled' with a dance crew. Sure, they had the slickest moves and all, but their little subordinate wasn't anything but a dust mite. Something to kick around and beat on, whenever the groove became too tough. Something to lay the blame on, whenever life's rhythm steered in a direction the crew didn't like.

The beetle was a pinata for his dance crew, and apparently a plague to his parents. So what else could he expect, other than torment? Why wait for the sun to rise, when the moon was rooted in the sky?

But apparently, Heaven had different plans. The angels hadn't forgotten about him.

The beetle didn't know how to expect the unexpected, but neither did 'Glitch'. How could he? How could he possibly believe anything that had happened to him? Two beautiful guardian angels, on their way to work, saw fit to rescue him-and for weeks on end, his life hadn't been the same. It had been complete and utter Paradise, living with two people that cared so much about them. And them being legends of the world's hottest dance competition? Icing on the cake.

After all, that meant big-name dancers cared heaps about him. Their Glitch. Someone that had once been called 'scumwipe' by his own dance crew.

To Glitch, the apartment complex on 702 Haven Street was Paradise. And unit #7 was home.

Home. His home.

While his guardians, his first friends, were at work, Glitch polished their digs. He cleaned the dishes, polished the counters, and learned how to make bad-ass french toast from one of Mo's cookbooks. He watched TV as he vacuumed, wanting a better grip on the English language. He learned all about the fake-ass, punk ass bitches on the Jersey Shore, then tore another recipe from one of Mo's cookbooks. Why?

Because he had a home. And he loved the ones that gave him a home.

Mo Porter and Angel Santiago Dominguez not only loved him, but respected him. Sure, he was a small cat in a big city, but neither man ever treated him like a baby. They picked up bits and pieces of Korean, so they could speak to him in his native language. They taught him English whenever time permitted them to do so, and both were perfectly patient with him. Angel shared his family's dance secrets with him, Mo opened up his family album for him...

And Glitch knew he was in the perfect paradise.

Sure, Angel asked him if he wanted night-lights installed in his new room, but who wanted to drown in darkness? Who wanted to sleep in complete and utter oblivion?

Glitch wouldn't have cared about walking on the wild side. Especially since Mo gave him a boombox, and bad-ass night time cds. Not that kiddie shit, but that dope stuff anyone could chill to. Angel seemingly let his wish slide, but then, one night, Glitch found his room brightened by stars. The Latino had bought them from Bed, Bath and Beyond, then plastered them on his friend's wall.

They were just like the real deal. So bright and beautiful.

As a matter of fact, the stars were just like Glitch's heart: radiant, and living inside a crystal clear sky.

As for his nightmares...he felt bad about having them, but only for a moment. Neither Mo or Angel complained about jumping out of bed, and comforting their new roommate. Glitch's unspoken horrors crept underneath Mo's skin, but neither dancer said anything as they soothed their young roommate. A paranoid Porter wanted to sleep at Glitch's side, Angel tried to calm him 'Princesa' down-

-and three nights later, the nightmares were declared a thing of the past.

But that didn't stop Mo from worrying. That didn't prevent him from feeling intense pangs of sadness, frustration and fury. Sometimes, even during video game night, Glitch caught Mo from the corner of his eye-and absorbed Mo's emotions. The Porter was eyeing him with the greatest despair, desperately wishing for a chance to erase Glitch's horrific past. Desperately wishing for the chance to erase every bad dream, every scratch, every tear.

Mo. Just the name infused the ex-Beetle with excitement. Hopes, dreams and purifying happiness.

The young breakdancer adored both men with every bone in his body, but Mo...he loved Mo in a way that was different from the way he loved 'Angie'. He was relieved to hear that Angel was hopelessly infatuated with a woman named Miss Aubrey Patterson, but hated it when the brunette showered his Princesa in compliments. He wanted Mo to be his, and his alone.

Glitch knew he wasn't anything special. He was just a street rat that had once been without a home. Without a family. He didn't even have a real name. But he wanted to take the beautiful, warm and serene creature that was Mo Porter, and love him with every ounce of his being.

As most pre-teens were, the young Korean was encased in a crush so passionate, it was mentally violent. He snuck in glimpses of Mo taking showers, and drowned in his own drool while Mo ran through his usual morning routine: dancing to a line of the quickest, hottest tunes.

And that usually happened without a shirt.

So, just like many other pre-teens, Glitch suffered from a powerful crush. But many occasions pressed his feelings far beyond infatuation. When he secretly dove out of the apartment to raise money, and paid the rent check, Mo was livid.

"I don't give a damn what'cha were tryin' t' do! What 'cha did was dangerous, yo, 'n I wouldn't have forgiven myself if somethin' happened t' ya!"

"Jus' leave everythin' to us! I don't want 'cha touchin' nothin' from this point on!"

Angel tried to soothe Glitch's rattled nerves, but Glitch knew why Mo was beyond furious with him-and fell further in love with the man hellbent on protecting him. He did raise the money by returning to one of his old crew's hangouts-a sleazy, slummy club that took advantage of young dancers. The Porter wasn't angry over him leaving the apartment. He was livid because Glitch could've been hurt-or killed.

From that point on, the fifteen year old Korean swore he'd never love anyone else so fiercely.

But infatuation didn't just skyrocket on that one occasion. Whenever Mo brought him out of his nightmares, the young breakdancer knew he had found his first great love. When the two of them shared the dance floor, and Mo taught him his most valuable moves, Glitch knew their rhythms had collided in powerful, warm synchronization.

But in the wake of a particularly beautiful night, Glitch knew his feelings had progressed from 'massive crush' to fullblown, certified love.

The night featured a candlelit round of Resident Evil 4, shared only between two breakdancers because Angel was on one of his many dates. Glitch, amazingly skilled in the kitchen (and wanting to impress Mo with culinary delights), whipped up malted milk chocolate chip cookie sandwiches-complete with vanilla ice cream. The two of them had spent several hours beating the crap out of Glitch's old crew, strutting their stuff in front of slack-jawed miscreants.

Glitch was frightened at first, wanting nothing more to do with his old 'family', but Mo assured him of safety.

"Yer gonna be all right. Ain't nothin' they c'n do t' ya while I'm around."

Afterwards, Mo expressed his wish to celebrate by gunning down Albert Wesker. Over cookies, ice cream and candlelit, the two breakdancers enveloped one another. As the moon encased their world in a soft, vibrant glow, they were drawn to each other.

They said nothing of their feelings, but their eyes expressed everything.

Once the end of their night approached, Mo became sad. His happy, amber brown eyes took on a sheen of deep despair. He fell quiet, after he had been perfectly vocal over running out of shotgun ammo-and not having enough money to buy weapons from The Merchant.

"Wassa matter? Are ya sore at dyin' so many times?"

"Mo...?"

The Porter said nothing at first, but then encased Glitch in a hug. He then asked: 'do you ever think about it?', which was a reference to the young breakdancer's past. Glitch assured him the past no longer bothered him, because why look back on something-when there wasn't anything to look back on? But-

Mo didn't believe him. And the following afternoon, Glitch discovered why.

* * *

"Let us take a stroll, mi amigo. I'm afraid it would be unwise to bother our beautiful salida del sol."

Those words were from none other than Angel. Glitch, as soon as the morning sun began to stroke their apartment, tried to rid Mo of last night's misery. But before the young breaker made it into the Porter's room, the Latino laid a hand on his friend's arm. It would've been unwise to bother Mo, Angel warned him. The amber-eyed breakdancer wanted to remain in his room, encased in silence, for reasons Glitch couldn't completely understand.

But Angel was willing to spill the beans.

Bathed in a fresh, fragile glow, two friends shared the DavenPort Park. Birdsong accompanied them as they shared the park's emerald green riches, bubbling with exuberant energy. But Glitch wasn't the least bit interested in the park's beauty-especially since it was the same park he shared with Mo on many occasions. Mo wasn't in the picture, because he was at home, sitting in his room.

If Glitch focused too much on the park, he'd want to run right back home, burst into Mo's room and wrap his arms around him. But that couldn't happen. Mo wanted to be left alone, and Glitch just had to find out what was going on. Why Mo was so worried about him, and the past he suffered. "I have a long, sordid tale in store for you," the brunette said in his usual elaborate, flashy fashion-after gawking over two, athletic young men. Once the middle-aged Runners vanished, the Dominguez wiped out all thoughts of worship.

Besides, Mo and Miss Aubrey were much better pictures. Especially with thongs.

Devoid of all humor, the Prince of Mambo occupied a bench. "If you do not mind, I would appreciate it if you could sit alongside me," the worried brunette said, patting the seat beside him. "It is vital for you to make yourself comfortable, while I reveal things I previously vowed to keep hidden."

Feeling as if the world's darkest secrets were about to be revealed, Glitch slowly took his place at Angel's side. The young breakdancer's eyes were wide, worried moons, and they never left Angel at any point. The Dominguez, meanwhile, kept his brown eyes rooted on the horizon.

"Your old crew...it is lucky to be alive. Very lucky, I should say."

Glitch's response was instant. "Why?"

"Because mi amor is a fighter. One that does not take kindly to heartless, cruel beasts. His beauty and strength have collided on several occasions-and I am a witness. Mi Princesa surpasses even the most brilliant gazelle, the most graceful of all-"

"Angie!"

"My apologies," the Latin dancer said, running a hand through his friend's hair. "As I was saying, our beloved Mo has no tolerance for those that prey on the suffering. And by no tolerance, I mean he is ready and willing to do whatever it takes, whatever it takes, to defend those in need. Particularly the ones he loves."

He was silent for a moment, pawing at his chin with closed eyes. "I was once an avid poker player," the brunette went on, submerged in memories. "I was once the envy of many circles. So many loathed me for my prowess and charm. They still do, but not over a deck of cards. I forfeited my crown, my friend, and here's why. A game spiraled out of control, resulting in devastating damage against me and my abuelita. I won the game, but my enemies were less than happy about it. They were engorged with the greatest fury!"

"They wanted revenge, mi amigo. And so, one night, they took their anger out on my abuelita. They paid her a visit, stole her most precious things, and took her life. Once Mo found out about my horrible nightmare, the shit, as you say, hit the fan. He demanded to know where they were, and at first I refused to tell him because how could I possibly put him in danger, after losing my grandmother? But I could not ignore the vibrant, radiant anger of the world's most regal creature."

"So Mo paid my friends a visit. I went with him, of course, to keep him safe. I am still very glad I did, because on that horrendous night...mi Princesa's emotions exploded. It was a violent cataclysm of fire, raging emotion and sound! Mo took all of my anger, my rage and my pain. We had come together as one, in a way I had dreamt of so many times-but not with my darling in a skin tight maid's uniform."

Angel's face became a surprisingly regal painting of pain. "He gave those miscreants what they deserved," he went on, speaking not only to a wide-eyed, increasingly horrified Glitch, but to himself. And judging by Angel's face and voice tone, Glitch knew all Hell had definitely broken loose.

"But it was horrifying, to see his hands stained with the blood of those monsters. They lived, yes, but only because of the police's intervention. Once I realized just how much trouble Mo was willing to throw himself in, I tried to step in-but my cielo threw me aside. Oh, I can still remember the anger, the hatred, that consumed my darling, and it still breaks my heart."

Glitch was breathless but wasted no time in asking: "What happened? Did Mo...did he-"

Angel gave him a sweet smile. "Oh no," he said, putting a finger to his lips. "Not on my behalf. The police force...well, they were...they were kind. And after all, the miscreants had not only stolen from my abuelita, but they took her life. They were also responsible for a slew of other wondrous accomplishments, but I shall leave those alone. So no, my precious Mo wasn't forced behind bars on my behalf, but..."

"What? What?"

The brunette shut his eyes for a moment, then continued with a frail smile. "You are familiar with the name MacCoy, am I right?"

Ugh. How could Glitch not be familiar with the name? Sure, he didn't know much about MacCoy, but he knew Coy was Mo's first love. And their breakup had been less than pleasant.

"From the look on your face, I can tell you are aware of our beloved blonde. Well...their breakup was...shall I say...disgusting. And here's why. Mo put a great deal of energy into the relationship, only to have the door slammed in his face. Wasn't very kind of our darling blonde, especially since he was quite the troublemaker."

"It was...the best of times, it was...the worst of times," Angel went on, quoting from 'A Tale of Two Cities'. "And once upon a time, in a galaxy far, far away, Mo and MacCoy met each other on a playground, very much like the one you see before you. They quickly became friends, Mo protected him from the most devilish of bullies, and a couple of blocks down the road, they fell madly in love. But here's the thing. Mo kept protecting Coy from heartless monsters-but they were monsters he poked one too many times. Our darling blonde ran around the chicken coop too much, and poked too many chickens. Prickly situation, si?"

"They were closer than...let's say 'two peas in a pod'. Their families were close. But as soon as Coy hit that particularly prickly age...well, Hell broke loose. Fell in with the wrong crowd. Our boy Coy was...hrm. What is the right word? Ah. A dealer. Worked th' streets and made quite a lot of money. In all the wrong ways, of course. And, as you know, he was heavily involved with our Princesa. Mo crossed with such a dangerous predicament...ah, the picture was not a pretty one."

The Dominguez beamed at Glitch's facial expression: an expression of increasing, intense horror. "Things started off peacefully enough," Angel went on, wagging a finger. "A nudge here and there. Nothing too disastrous. Coy asked Mo for money on occasion, saying he needed to cover his debts with other...players at the table. Said he even needed dough to help his abuelita, who was suffering from so many ailments...but I believe Coy used the money to satisfy his appetite."

"Things quickly became much worse, hermano. The crowd Coy loved to hang out with...it was a crowd much worse than yours. They were a pack of cruel, wild beasts, with sex and drugs being their only interests. Coy borrowed more and more money from our darling Mo, to pay off rising debts to his crew, we all told Mo over and over and over again to cut ties-"

"We?"

"Me, the beautiful Miss Aubrey, and the lovely Emilia Clarke. We've been friends since the dawn of time, little brother. And as Mo's friends, we told him so many times to leave Coy alone, BUT-ah, that did not happen. Being the regal, loyal creature that he is, Mo never left his side-not even when loads of shit hit the fan. Even his dear old mother told him to leave Coy alone, but...alas, our beautiful Princess was much too loyal to abandon his lifelong friend. We all thought we'd end up banging our heads against the wall, but then...something happened. Something much worse than everything that had ever come before."

"To make a long story short, mi amigo, Coy took two lives. Count them-one, two. Mo found out about it and threw himself in front of the train."

Glitch's jaw dropped, causing Angel to chuckle.

"It was over a deal gone wrong. The deal went South, and our darling MacCoy went...shall I say, apeshit berserk. Mo threw Coy out of the frying pot, and it snowballed from there. He roasted himself just to protect the very same person responsible for breaking his heart, over and over and over again. There was one night he called me, crying, because of something Coy had done to him."

"What did he do?"

"The unthinkable," Angel said sadly, and it was the answer Glitch needed. Brown eyes glazed over in sad memories, Angel returned his eyes to the horizon. "But even then, Mo did not leave Coy's side. He fought for him, all the way to the bitter end-until even he could not tolerate our blonde's antics, any longer."

Glitch tugged on his friend's arm violently. "What happened? Mo went down for Coy, didn't he? He was thrown in th' slammer fer somethin' Coy did, wasn't he?"

"He was, but only for a short while. Thank Heaven. If the truth had never been revealed, our lives would be much different."

Glitch gasped as if Angel had plunged a knife straight into his heart.

"He even concocted a story to make himself the guilty one. Touched the evidence, too. He tried so hard to keep himself in the custody of the police-even though he was faced with 1st degree murder, and possession of...ah. Illegal substances. We all tried so hard to get him to tell the truth, say he didn't do anything, but our Princess never uttered a syllable against MacCoy. Not even his dear mother could get him to reveal the truth. He didn't want to abandon the lover, the friend, he had cared so much about."

Glitch didn't know whether to bang his head into a bloody coma, or burst into tears.

"So how was the truth revealed? By a witness."

"Ya mean t' tell me-"

"No, I'm afraid he didn't, Glitch. The truth was revealed by a witness who was much too afraid to speak at first. She was afraid of being hurt herself, by other members of the crew. But in the end, she didn't want the wrong person going down for the crime. From that point on, everything is foggy. My delicate mind has a tendency to block out horrible memories, hermano. I remember how much Mo's mother cried, over her only child. I remember how angry we all were at MacCoy, and how heartbroken we were over the nightmare Mo endured."

"He said very little, our Princess. Barely looked at any of us. I do remember he spoke to MacCoy, though, right before his arrest-and inside the police station. After three visits to the station, we all knew. We knew Mo had finally thrown in the towel. And for a month, we feared we had lost our Princess. But then...the heavens split open, and a great ray of light burst forth! Our darling, luscious butterfly emerged from his cocoon, gracing not only me but the world with his presence! And we have not looked back, ever since."

Glitch's face was a blank canvas. It was blank because it couldn't be read.

"But his happiness was not meant to last. His mother passed away a month later, from an illness no one could cure. She did not want to tell her son about it, because she knew he would've done far too much to help. And he was going through Hell over MacCoy. She did not want to be a burden to her son, so she drifted away. Passed away in her sleep. His papi had literally passed in the line of fire, working as a fireman. So all Mo had left was his mother. But then she too was taken home."

Angel ran a hand over his face. "Ah, the sadness. The overwhelming, piercing sadness that guts my heart, even to this very day," he said, placing a hand over his heart. "He...he returned to a world of silence once more. He said only one thing to me, and even now it breaks my heart to think of it. But it had a lot to do with failure. He...he felt he had failed both his mother and MacCoy. And I know he still feels that way. We all know it."

The Latino buried his face in his hands, visibly overwhelmed by emotion. Meanwhile, Glitch's face remained completely blank.

"Heaven decided to keep him here. The angels knew it wasn't his time to go home, so...three months later, mi Princesa and I moved into our darling apartment, and here we are."

"Glitch?"

"What? What d' y' want me t' say? What can I say? Th' guy I love woulda went down fer some serious jail time, all over some punk ass bitch that never deserved 'im th' first place! He went through a lotta shit over Coy, 'n ended up gettin' nothin' for it! Geseki! Shibbal nom!"

It was maddening. Glitch wanted to jump in front of a diesel truck, tear his eyes out, and slit Coy's throat, all at once. With Angel's tender, compassionate eyes locked on him, the young Korean paced around the park bench-trying to keep himself from strangling a random, innocent stranger.

It was maddening, so maddening. Tears burned the younger male's brown eyes. How? How could such horrors fall upon someone so warm, so kind and beautiful? How? Mo put his life's energy into a relationship with MacCoy, much to the horror of his other friends-and much to the horror of his own mother! Mo, the very same one that opened his apartment, his life, to a scrawny street rat, was steamrolled by some blue-eyed punk! A thousand times! And Mo had the nerve to feel like a failure?

"Whaddya want me t' say, Angie? I don't know what t' say, other than I wasn't there t' help Mo 'n I hate that! I know I couldn't have been there, but jus' thinkin' of 'im all alone, sittin' in some court room, or that damn cell...just makes me sick, yo! I wanna break somethin', or..."

Glitch didn't know if he wanted to burst into tears, or kill everyone in sight. "I hate this," he declared, slowly falling to his knees. Eyes burning with so many tears. "I hate it, man. Hate it. He's always worryin' 'bout me when he's got his own shit on his shoulders. I hate this."

"Glitch, its because he doesn't want-"

"What, me to end up like his ma? What, 'e thinks I'm gonna keel over 'n die from somethin'? I ain't pullin' no shit like that, man. I ain't sick. I sure th' Hell ain't worried about no bitch ass punks. If I'm upset over anythin', its..."

He took a deep breath. "He woulda went t' prison, Angie."

"I know."

"And he feels like-"

"I know. But...I told you all of that because...I wanted you to understand. I wanted you...to learn more. About Mo, and where he comes from. I wanted you to understand why he's always so worried about you, and what he would've done to your old friends. He chose not to tear them apart because he remembered what happened over MacCoy. He didn't want to break your heart, hermano."

Another knife was plunged right into the breakdancer's heart.

"He...he swore to take care of you. He cannot do that if he really does take the lives of others. He is...at home, sitting in his room, wishing he could've done more. Wishing...he could've given the proper punishment to your old amigos. Wishing he could've done something to make them regret their decisions. But...he chose not to. Instead, he put all of his emotion, his energy, into dance. So we must give him time. Give him time t' cool down."

The younger dancer kept his eyes rooted to the ground. He said nothing for what felt like forever, then-

"Angie, do ya love Mo? I mean, really, really love Mo?"

The Dominguez was momentarily breathless because of the question, then replied with the warmest smile. "Of course I do. How could I not love such a beautiful, magnificent creature? I would be out of my mind to ignore that butterfly's sweet, divine nature! But I love you as well. Besides, I have been hypnotized by the darling Aubrey's glory."

The tearful smile Glitch gave him broke his heart. "Angie?"

"Yes?"

"Thanks fer tellin' me alla that. I love ya too. Oh, and by th' way...y' ain't got a chance in Hell with Aubrey."

"What? How dare you intrude on my dreams of everlasting rapture! How can you say such things, anyway?"

"Cuz I've heard her over th' phone, 'n she couldn't give a rat's ass about ya!"

Angel rose from the bench, defending his future with the brilliantly beautiful Aubrey. The two young men strolled through the DavenPort Park, with Angel gushing over thoughts of Aubrey-and every other creature on two legs. Glitch battled against his friend, saying he'd never have a chance with any man or woman-

All the while missing the painfully loyal, beautiful Mo.

Glitch might have been young, but he was aware of what it meant to love someone.

And he knew he loved Mo with a savage passion.


	3. Blackout

Dance Central 2 fandom. I do not own this fandom. Hence, the term 'fanfiction'.

This focuses on the origins of the MoGlitch couple. If you're against said pairing, PLEASE take your leave. I don't tolerate flamers of any kind. They bore me and ruin what we're here to celebrate: art.

*This contains boy's love, but it features NO HARDCORE ROMANCE.

*The last names I give the characters, Porter, Dominguez, Patterson and Clarke, are NOT official. They are NOT canon names. To tell you the truth, I hate my Mo's last name and wish I could use 'Alomar', as I have seen in other DC fanfiction, but I do not know how the author would feel about that.*

Recap:

To Glitch, the apartment complex on 702 Haven Street was Paradise. And unit #7 was home.

Home. His home.

While his guardians, his first friends, were at work, Glitch polished their digs. He cleaned the dishes, polished the counters, and learned how to make bad-ass french toast from one of Mo's cookbooks. He watched TV as he vacuumed, wanting a better grip on the English language. He learned all about the fake-ass, punk ass bitches on the Jersey Shore, then tore another recipe from one of Mo's cookbooks. Why?

Because he had a home. And he loved the ones that gave him a home.

Mo Porter and Angel Santiago Dominguez not only loved him, but respected him. Sure, he was a small cat in a big city, but neither man ever treated him like a baby. They picked up bits and pieces of Korean, so they could speak to him in his native language. They taught him English whenever time permitted them to do so, and both were perfectly patient with him. Angel shared his family's dance secrets with him, Mo opened up his family album for him...

And Glitch knew he was in the perfect paradise.

"Whaddya want me t' say, Angie? I don't know what t' say, other than I wasn't there t' help Mo 'n I hate that! I know I couldn't have been there, but jus' thinkin' of 'im all alone, sittin' in some court room, or that damn cell...just makes me sick, yo! I wanna break somethin', or..."

Glitch didn't know if he wanted to burst into tears, or kill everyone in sight. "I hate this," he declared, slowly falling to his knees. Eyes burning with so many tears. "I hate it, man. Hate it. He's always worryin' 'bout me when he's got his own shit on his shoulders. I hate this."

* * *

Chapter Three

Glitch felt unbearable about the tale Angel had to reveal.

Not only because of the parts that concerned Mo, but because of Grandma Dominguez's fate. Because of the memories her grandson had to relive. Angel had opened up a box of secrets, destruction and sadness, just for his friend's sake-but by doing so, he mentally jumped into a crippling tornado of memories. Headfirst.

He tried to apologize. Tried to apologize for his grandmother's fate, and for having to go through those memories again. But his friend, the charismatic Prince of Mambo, shut those apologies down. Angel set out on a mission to open Glitch's eyes to the truth-and he succeeded. The brunette had no regrets about teaching his little brother about Mo, and explaining why the Porter worried over him so much. So, for hours on end, the young breakdancer and the Prince of Mambo shared each other's company. Glitch soothed Angel through smiles and vibrant conversation. Sharing ice cream and strolling through the mall didn't hurt, either. Especially since no one had to go into work today. Angel and Mo were off, and Glitch didn't have to check in at his new job.

The job he had to get by pulling teeth. Mo's teeth.

It took quite a lot of effort, but the fifteen year old eventually snagged his first job. The manager and other employees of the Barnes and Noble bookstore adored him, so they weren't the hurdles Glitch had to jump over. It was Mo he had to go through. The Porter wanted him to stay in the safe confinement of their apartment. But Glitch wouldn't accept that. He wouldn't accept the free ride, even if Angel and Mo were all right in the money department. Their jobs gave them hefty pay, and they had quite a lot of money left over from Dance Central, but Glitch didn't want a free ticket to any roller coaster.

Mo had opened his world to a common, ordinary street rat. Why pay him back by standing still? The Keyblade Masters he learned about certainly wouldn't stand still. Aqua, Ventus and Terra did everything in their power to honor their bond. Glitch would do the same for his bond with Mo. And if he wasn't going to listen to the tale of three Keyblade heroes, Angel's amazing gift would be wasted.

Like that would ever happen.

Glitch didn't want to pay Angel back by having him drown in horrible memories. So he listened as his friend talked about Miss Aubrey's wonders. Her legs, her flowing red hair-nothing was safe from the brunette's hungry eyes. Not even the other visitors of DavenPort Park were safe. But as annoying as it was to listen to Angel's sexcapades, Glitch wanted his friend to leave devastating memories behind. He even encouraged Angel to keep talking. And that's what he did, over ice cream and shopping. Even taking care of bills was a lot of fun. But-

Glitch couldn't stop thinking about Mo. Mo, or the amber butterfly, as Angel loved to call him. The very same one that opened his doors to a filthy, homeless runt. The beautiful Princess that had his heart crushed, time and time again, by the one he called a friend. By the one he devoted his heart and body to: MacCoy.

Yesterday afternoon, Mo encouraged him to take on his old crew. Glitch was frightened by the challenge at first, but with Mo's company, there really wasn't anything to be afraid of. The young breaker knew he'd be safe with a warm, strong set of arms around. And together, the two of them iced Glitch's old crew. It was as if they wiped dust off their shoulders.

For a while, Glitch believed taking down his crew was just a way to get rid of the past. A way to push his past fear, his crippling agony, underneath the carpet. And he thought it was just another occasion for his love to soar through the roof. But as it turned out, it was more than that. Mo had powerful issues with Glitch's past, as he apparently had issues with his own. And judging from what Angel had told him-

Mo would've killed every last member of his old crew. Or at least crippled them. But he didn't. Why?

Because Mo wanted to keep on protecting him. Wanted to stay with him.

Would it be a week before the Porter opened his bedroom door? Would it be a month? Would it be forever? Would Glitch have to wait until the end of time before seeing Mo ever again? How long could he possibly wait before throwing Mo's bedroom door open, and declaring his undying devotion? How would long would it be before he'd see those warm, radiant amber eyes? That serene smile? How much pain was Mo really in over MacCoy, and his departed mother?

When Angel declared it was time to return to the apartment, to check on things, Glitch's heart flew beyond the stars. Excitement met with violent fear in a thunderous car crash. Maybe Mo was in the living room, playing Resident Evil 4 on their Wii. Maybe he was on their sofa, listening to his old-school records. Maybe, maybe, maybe-

-the car was gone?

"Interesting," the Latino hummed, as he and his friend approached their apartment. They had gone through their day on foot, leaving Angel's Princess with the car. But the car was gone. Nowhere in sight. And neither one of them received a phone call on Mo's whereabouts.

As soon as he realized the car was out of place, Glitch quickened his pace. Angel was close behind. The two young men bolted through their front door in a heartbeat, unable to figure out where their Mo had gone. While the Dominguez remained calm, Glitch was frantic. There weren't any signs of struggle, nothing was out of place-other than the car keys, apparently. But where was-

"Mo? Mo, are ya here? Mo!"

Arms folded, Angel watched as his friend bolted to Mo's bedroom. The young breakdancer re-appeared in a heartbeat, eyes widened with fear. "He ain't here," the fifteen year old said breathlessly.

"Angie, he's gone!"

The Latino gave his friend a soothing smile. "Now, now. Calm yourself, hermano. You're whiter than a ghost!"

"What th' fuck, Angie? Where is he? He ain't called either one of us, 'n you guys don't hafta check in fer another shift t'day! What if he's gone back after my old crew, 'n he's hurt? What if he's in trouble?"

"Hold on, Glitch," the brunette urged calmly, removing his phone from his pocket. "Cool your engines, as you young'ins say. I'm sure our distress can be removed with another call."

Every second was a devastating hour to Glitch.

Answer the phone answer the phone answer the phone answer the phone dammit Mo where did ya go?

"Ah! My darling angel. You had me worried! What are you up to?"

Glitch waited for Mo to answer Angel with bated breath. As soon as the Porter's voice obviously came in, the young Korean felt as if a thousand pounds of iron were lifted off his chest. But as soon as Mo apparently began to explain his situation, the relief died off. Judging by the look on Angel's face, and his facial expression, Mo was in one piece-but not in the best situation.

"My sweet pet, have you really...? Glitch is all right, my peach, but..."

Glitch grimaced, as if he had been stabbed. _Of course. Always worryin' about me._

"Are you really...? All right then."

The Dominguez ended the call, none too happy with its conclusion. "What?" his little brother asked, breathless from emotion. "What's goin' on? What's happenin'?"

Overwhelmed with worry, Glitch fell to his knees. If anythin's happened to 'im, if anythin' at all-

Angel took a deep breath before relieving Glitch of silence's torment, but-

"Hermano, our Princess is-"


	4. Out of the Frying Pan

*Dance Central fandom. MoGlitch pairing. This focuses on the origins of the Hi-Def crew, which is featured in Dance Central 2. WARNING: IF YOU DON'T LIKE MALE/MALE PAIRINGS, AND/OR CAN'T STOMACH THE MOGLITCH PAIRING, DON'T READ WHAT I'VE WRITTEN.

*The last names given to the characters are NOT official. They are not canon last names.

*A firing range is a place where people can go to hone their skills with firearms.

*In past chapters, I incorrectly labeled Glitch's eyes as 'brown'. From this point on, I shall correctly label them as 'green'. In past chapters, I also made the mistake of not including Taye as one of Mo's old friends. That will be different from this point on. As for Dare, she's off in another country working as a fashion designer. Oblio's...on a mystical journey.

* * *

_Poison gripped his insides with a vengeance._

_Demons had been summoned to wreak havoc on his body, and they were doing exactly that. His arms, legs, chest-not a single part was safe from the pain he could never measure._

_He tried to wrench himself out of the arms of demons. Tried to wrench himself out of the millions of arms, all of which were holding him down. Forcing him into a cavern of defeat, soul-crushing despair and frustration, his captors bore no intentions of letting him go. MacCoy was their spearhead, cementing Hellfire's captive against his will._

_Devoid of the familiar, innocent love Mo once knew, MacCoy's arms glued his shivering body against the bed. It was the same bed they shared, so many times in the wake of Pokemon Stadium competitions. The very same bed they shared, after marathons of Power Ranger and X-Men movies. But the blue-eyed blonde had turned their familiar sanctuary into something cold._

_He tried to tear himself out of Coy's arms, not wanting his body to plunge into further violation. Driven on by substances straight out of hell, and emotion, the blonde deejay catapulted himself even further into his lover's body-ignoring every last one of Mo's protests._

_"Ya gotta cut this shit out, Coy! Get th' fuck offa me!"_

_"Ain't lettin' ya go! Ya know ya want this, just as much as I want you!"_

_Already battered by emotion, and the blonde's reserve, Mo was definitely helpless against the makeshit handcuffs. Coy had tied his lover's hands to the bedpost, determined to beat the other into submission. On the way to their once-peaceful sanctuary, the blonde took the opportunity of battering his lover with punches and kicks. And the destruction of innocence continued, forcing the Porter into even more pain._

_Excruciating, nauseating torment tore through him. The blonde's ravenous lips tore into his skin, accompanied by equally greedy, bloodthirsty fingers. Ignoring all memories of unbridled pleasure, and pure happiness, Mo forfeited all claims on the threads of fragile courage. There was nothing he could do, other than satiated his lover's desires. Nothing he could do, other than allowed himself to be scorced by fiery blue eyes, cruel hands and parched lips._

_Just when he thought he'd burst from the pain, another voice tore into the bedroom-and proved him otherwise._

_"What are you doing? What do you think you're doing to my baby?"_

_Mo tried to untie himself, but due to the pain clogging his body, all efforts were in vain. It was impossible to even open his eyes. He could only listen as a scuffle began, between his lover and his mother. Punches flew, lamps and dressers crashed against the floor, Coy's voice rose against his mother's in protest-_

_Finally, the younger Porter was able to tear himself out of Coy's faux handcuffs. Life came at him as blurs as he pounced on top of Coy, trying to tear him away from his mother. The blue-eyed blonde had his arms around the woman's throat, ordering her to stay away, and the next thing Mo knew-_

_-was complete and utter darkness._

_Having your head thrown against the wall usually sent one into a painful sleep._

* * *

That was only one of the nightmares Coy was responsible for, and it didn't end there. As he did on many other occasions, the thoroughly beaten Mo comforted Coy, who was apparently frantic over losing his 'Mojo'. The young Porter then defended Coy against his mother, assuring her everything would be all right. That Coy would be all right soon. The lonely, confused half of his heart only needed more guidance, strength and love from his Mojo.

That was one of the more prickly nightmares. And in the wake of that nightmare, Momma Porter was always in tears. Not over what Coy had done to her, but what Coy was doing to her son. Her one and only son, whom she would always love with every fiber of her being. But even in the wake of that particularly devastating nightmare, Mo took up arms in Coy's defense-promising himself, his mother and his friends everything would be all right. A couple of months later-

Mo realized how stupid he had been.

He also realized just how much the others suffered, over his actions. Not only did he cause his mother to suffer, but his friends suffered with her. Angel, Emilia, Taye and Miss Aubrey expressed their passionate concerns on so many occasions, but they were all brushed underneath the carpet. Angel still worried about him. The Prince of Mambo was still by his side, even after the shit Mo dragged him through.

They all vowed to remain on his team, no matter what.

His friends would never leave his side. That was a wonderful fact, but at the same time, it broke Mo's heart. They were all still concerned about him, and he knew it. Miss Aubrey, Taye and Emilia called on a regular basis. Making sure everything was ship-shape with the friend they loved so much. As much as he tried to steer away from the topic of MacCoy, they all knew how much he still suffered.

However, none of them knew about him being at a firing range. Angel didn't even know-until he called.

_"Ah! My darling angel. You had me worried! What are you up to?"_

Mo had kept himself holed up in his room, but he couldn't remain still for too long. There was far too much frustration, anger and sadness welling up inside of him. Much too focused on his emotions, he forgot to notify either Angel or Glitch-whom he had bought a cell phone for, several weeks ago.

Ah, Glitch. Glitch. Precious, amazing, loyal, sweet Glitch.

Sure, the other half of Mo's heart was a young'in, but Mo knew. Mo knew there was much more to Glitch than his age. Being abandoned by his family, in a foreign country, forced Glitch to grow up much faster than average teenager. Glitch was even more mature than a vast number of adults. The young Korean's past was a heartbreaking thing Mo did not like to acknowledge, but it was there, all the same. So the young one's age wasn't an issue.

**MacCoy** was the issue.

How could there possibly be any competition? Glitch always made him feel at home. He was always so kind, so warm and so willing to help out in every way possible. Mo wanted him to make himself comfortable, inside of the apartment, but Glitch didn't want to sit still. The young Porter must've heard 'lemme get a job' a billion times in a single week. So off Mo went, acquiring a work permit for the newest member of his household. And off Glitch went-

-shoveling every paycheck into Mo's hands.

Unlike MacCoy, Glitch wasn't judgemental or cruel. The young breaker didn't laugh at his father's Marvin Gaye or Prince records. The fifteen year old, green-eyed breakdancer led him through the annals of Resident Evil games, and comforted him whenever Wesker got too out of hand. The teen whipped up the most delicious dinners and box lunches, never complaining about working his ass off in the kitchen.

Whenever Mo asked Glitch a question, he always got the perfect answer. And it wasn't a rehearsed answer, either. Glitch's sharp, passionate green eyes spoke of the truth, and only the truth.

MacCoy's eyes were always so cloudy-and not just from the drugs he took.

Mo wanted to tell Glitch how he felt. Wanted the teen to know just how comfortable he felt around him. He wanted to thank Glitch for sharing so many grooves with him. With keeping his beat in tune with his. The two of them were in perfect sync with each other, and oh, it felt so good. It felt so wondrously, amazingly good. But then, if there wasn't any competition, what was the problem?

MacCoy. His eyes used to be so clear, so vibrant, so beautiful. The blonde and the Porter used to be on the same page, rockin' every dance floor. Sharing dreams over mountains of supreme pizzas from Pizza Hut. Sharing school work, all-nighters, talent shows, slumber parties, showers-

"Um, excuse me. Young sir?"

"Oh, shit," Mo gasped, lowering his gun. Amber eyes were widened by shock and horror. He hadn't realized he had almost gunned his target down, drowning in his own thoughts. Yes, he was in a firing range, but there were limits. One of them read: don't gun down the whole place. "Sorry about that," the Porter said with a warm, apologetic shrug. The recipient of his apology, a gentle old man with blue eyes, nodded at his customer.

"It's quite all right, young 'un, but by th' looks of things, you have a lot on your mind! Is everything all right, if you don't mind me askin'?"

Loading another round of bullets into his shotgun, and inwardly vowing to be more careful, Mo replied with a jovial wink. "Ain't nothin' that cain't be undone with a shitload o' gunfire," the young Porter chuckled, and returned for another round of good old, wholesome fun. After all-

Nothing could get rid of one's frustration like a round of bullets.


End file.
